


Night at the countryside

by Ms_Julius



Series: SINF-week 3 [3]
Category: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel - Michael Scott
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, SINF Week, SINF Week 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 06:03:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13117581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Julius/pseuds/Ms_Julius
Summary: Set right after the twins and Flamel managed to escape through the Stonehenge's gate.





	Night at the countryside

**Author's Note:**

> Day 3 of SINF-week 3, shame on me for falling behind and posting this late.  
> Prompt was the third book "Sorceress", and this scene takes place during the end of that story.

With a swift swipe of a hand, Palamedes strike down one last wailing wolf. The portal behind them had already closed after the twins and Flamel managed to slip through it, and the remaining packs of creatures were starting to back away into the shadows surrounding the meadow, already losing their interest as the scent of oranges and vanilla was vanishing with the mild wind. 

Whole field around the ancient stone circle was covered in grey, thick dusk, and the blood of Gabriel’s dogs. The Saracen knight let his gaze run across the battlefield, his heart heavy with the lost of his loyal companions from years past. First drops of rain started to fall, and washed away the red splatters tarnishing the bodies of the primeval warriors, the scenery in front of him beginning to cleanse. Slowly the broad man kneeled down, sinking his open hand into the mud below, muttering a silent pray for his brave, fallen army.

They had fought valiantly, and their sacrifice would be remembered.

Through the rain, Palamedes could hear a set of steps closing in on him. He didn’t need to lift his head to know when Shakespeare had stopped, right behind his back. Close enough to touch, yet choosing not to.

“Their battle was spectacular. You have every reason to be proud of them.”

Something in that gentle tune of the voice caused Palamedes to glance up, locking his eyes with bard. The pale ones stared back at him behind the black-rimmed glasses, the look in them full of sorrow and painful relief. “Twins got the chance to escape because of them. There is no reason to feel regret over a warrior falling in a battle in which they truly believed in.” The skinny man dropped in kneeling position beside the knight, pressing his thin-fingered hand next to Palamedes’ huge one. “May they rest in peace.”

There was no voices to be heard as the two immortals sat on the muddy grass, only the quiet pattering of the drizzle and the wind howling over the gray-shaded landscape. The rain was starting to gain speed, and in mere minutes they were both soaked in cold water. The fabric of their clothes clung tightly to their skin, causing Shakespeare to sneeze aloud and getting even the rugged knight wipe his running nose in secret while he pushed himself to his feet, pulling the author up with him. 

“We should get going. There is bound to be a herd of reporters on their way over here already, and I for one am not about to stay and answer their questions of what went down here.” He took a long look around, scratching the back of his head. “And we most definitely need to get out before the police arrives.”

The slight man nodded, using his middle finger to nudge his glasses upwards. “I know a good place. It is right around the corner. An old barn from king Edward’s ages, in a good shape too.”

Palamedes squeezed the writer's sodden wet shoulder. “I am afraid it’s not in a very good shape anymore.”

The pale eyes widened. “What do you mean?” Before Palamedes could answer, he lifted a hand and let out a loud sigh. “Don’t tell me that’s the place you chose to hid in while waiting for the dark?” 

It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement, so the Saracen knight settled for shrugging and offering an apologetic smirk. 

Shakespeare shook his head, huffing once again. “I shouldn’t have shown you that place. After knowing you for so many years, I should have guessed that you’d trash it in any given time.” Despite the harsh words, the bard reached up to pat the forearm of a giant man standing before him. “But all the circumstances considered, I am willing to forgive you.” The writer took a step forward, waving the warrior to follow him. “I was about to get it teared down anyway, so basically you just spared me the trouble of hiring someone to do it.” 

Hurrying his stride to match Shakespeare’s, Palamedes landed on a easy stroll beside the shorter man. “We should be able to use the remains of the building for a shelter for the night. The ceiling is still partially up, and there are three walls intact.”

Shakespeare glanced up at him, not slowing down his walk as they made their way through the muddled meadow. “I should hope so.” The new shiver ran down his spine, making him breath out a huff of vaporized air. “My arse is freezing off in this blasted weather.”

At that, the tall man bursted out laughing, slamming his hand into the bard’s fragile frame with an enthusiastic chuckle. “The days when you talk like this have truthfully come more frequent during our companionship.”

A blotch of blush appeared on Shakespeare’s cheeks, his face flushing with an embarrassment as he wrapped his arms around himself. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

The knight just let out another explosive laughter, and let his enormous hand come to rest on the other man’s narrow shoulders. “You wouldn’t know what to do if I wasn’t there to keep you company, Will.”

There was a moment of silence, but just as Palamedes was about to glance down at his companion, the bard spoke up, his nasal voice warm with fondness.

“There lies more truth in that than I care to admit, old friend.”


End file.
